


I've Been Wrong

by Pyry



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU probably, Gen, M/M, Stancest - Freeform, Twincest, and his travelling through dimensions, but it's mostly about Ford, lots of references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:35:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6306760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyry/pseuds/Pyry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Ford said "wrong" and one time he said "right".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

\---

“This is wrong,” Ford whispers, when Stanley finally breaks the kiss and licks his neck, breathing heavily. “Ouch, and _that_ tickles!”

“Make up your mind, Poindexter.”  Ford can swear that Stanley is grinning from ear to ear in the dark. “It’s wrong or it tickles?"

“Both!” Ford hisses angrily. Stanley just smirks and bends forward, nearly touching Ford's ear – almost caressing it with his lips, actually – and saying:  
“Want me to stop?”  
Ford shivers and closes his eyes.

He has already thought about it so many times – and got bored, in fact.  
_Theoretically -_ this is really wrong. They are men, they are brothers, they are twins – and this relationship is definitely not acceptable in their culture.  
And they can’t go to Japan, can they? – Ford briefly thinks about Stan-O-War –  
no, they can’t.

 _Practically_..well. Ford can’t deny that he likes it.  
That he likes to be shoved against the wall.  
That he likes Stanley’s hands on his waist.  
That he likes –  
Stanley patiently – well, this is unusual - waits for his answer. And that pleases Ford even more.  
And outweighs his doubts.

“No.” Ford nervously licks his lips and throws his arms around Stanley’s neck. “Don’t stop.”

\---


	2. Chapter 2

\---  
“Wrong switch!” Ford screams, feeling how portal’s power becomes stronger, drags him into the obscurity, blinds him -  
  
The last thing Ford sees is Stanley, running, shouting, trying to catch hold of him -   
but it’s too late.  
In the next moment he is gone.  
\---  
There is nothing.  
No sensations - he can’t see, he can’t hear, he can’t smell –

he can do nothing.  
He doesn’t know who he is.  
But still - he exists.  
Somehow.  
Or at least his mind exists.  
Well, _cogito ergo sum._  
He wonders - without much interest - if he is the only one in this void.  
\---  
He can understand Bill now.  
It's pretty boring.  
Too little sensations.  
Too much useless information.   
What will he do with all this shit?  
\---  
After several hours - or years - time didn't matter _there_ \- Ford finds himself on an unknown shore, still full of euphoria -  
and can’t help but laugh himself to tears.  
He has never thought that something like that could happen to him.  
But still - here he is! In an unknown dimension - thank gods, this atmosphere has oxygen in it – having no weapons, no food and no sense. -  
And with his superficial knowledge - oh yes, now Ford gets it - how stupid he was, thinking that he could be a match for Bill -  
It’s going to be a long way home.

\---  



	3. Chapter 3

\---  
"Everything I know is wrong," Ford simply states, seeing how a mage throws fireballs at giant spiders.  
Ford just can't get it - energy? from nowhere? nonsense!   
And what’s even worse – he can't use magic.  
He can't even light a fucking candle.  
Maybe that’s because he’s too logical - but goddammit! Anomalies in Gravity Falls could be explained, at least - there, mages shrug and tell him to believe.  
Impossible.  
Humiliating.  
They definitely think that he’s just another loser with absurd dreams.  
Ford sighs and sheathes his elven war axe.  
He’d rather summon something to fight for him than fight himself  - because for gods’ sake, he never considered himself a muscle guy – his power is not physical, obviously –

But it’s not like he has a choice.  
  
Yes, he knows about different types of staffs – and with one of them he can summon  some kind of demon or something – they are called daedra here -   
but  he’s done with demon summoning.   
No way he’ll do this again.

Ford thinks that if it wasn’t for his strange disability -  he may have liked this dimension.  
Probably.  
He desperately wants to lay his hands on some spell tomes, but he just can’t get them – for some reason mages refuse to sell them to him.  
It’s a mystery indeed.   
\---  
 _" **You are not the Dragonborn"**_ **,** the old dragon frowns.  
"No," Ford admits  and sits down on a rock.   
**_"But you do know our language."_**  
"Yes."  
_Have learned it in a month. Quite simple. Even primitive, as compared with French -_  
**"Hmmm."** The Dragon looks at him with suspicion. **"Why are you here?"**  
Ford shrugs.  
**"You seek power, don't you? Or forbidden knowledge?"**   
The dragon doesn't judge him. He just asks, but Ford raises an eyebrow anyway.   
That's how everybody sees him? As a thirsty for power - or knowledge - madman?  
"I don't know. In fact, I know that I know nothing."  
The dragon utters something that resembles a chuckle.  
**"Wise words."**  
Ford smiles dryly.  
"Not mine."  
\---  
Ford sits near the fire and stares at the sky.  
He just got expelled from another Hold - _note: never trust  khajits, especially M'aiq the Liar - and never make deals with them!_ \- and couldn't make it to some sort of shelter in time.   
And it's not safe to travel alone at night through the land which is torn apart by a civil war.   
Especially when you haven't chosen your side.  
Where should he travel to next?  
The library in the College of Winterhold is said to be the best in this world.  
What a shame he can't get there legally.  
Wait.   
_Legally?_  
\---

Well, you bet he ends up in Winterhold’s jail.

\---  



	4. Chapter 4

\---

”Where did I go wrong?” Ford wonders.

He has been stuck in this labyrinth – black solid walls rising to the stars, red sand swallowing his footsteps – for hours and even Trémaux’s algorithm can’t help him out.  
Ford suspects that this place is messing with his mind.  
Or his sense of direction.  
  
Ford rips some pages from his current journal and tears them to pieces.   
Paper is worse than pebbles – but is definitely better than bread crumbs.  
Hopefully there are no birds or living scissors in this maze.

”Stay cool and collected,” Ford reminds himself. “If there was a way in - there must be a way out.”  
\---  
He is being watched.  
He's nothing but an attraction - or an experiment object - a laboratory rat - for them.  
Whoever they are.  
_Serves me right, I suppose._  
\---  
_Okay, maybe they just want me dead._  
This thought appears in his mind when he runs into some pieces of paper - a pile of them, in fact - and understands that all this time he’s been running in circles.   
Ford is exhausted.  
All he wants is to take a rest, to sit down on this red sand -  
but he knows it’s a pretty bad idea.  
He won’t stand up after that.  
And he knows it too.  
\---  
Sometimes it seems to him that he actually hears somebody’s laugh.  
”Shut up, Bill,” Ford mutters.  
And takes yet another step.  
And another.  
He’ll be free or dead.  
And it’s not just fine words -  
but a matter of fact.  
\---


	5. Chapter 5

\---  
“Something is wrong with a motor,” Ford explains to an indigene – well, tries to explain – natives usually don’t know English at all – _what a surprise_ , Ford smiles bitterly, _wandering would be much more easier if it wasn’t for language diversity – and species diversity -_ but he is lucky – this time it’s human.   
He is stuck somewhere in the desert, not able to travel on foot - his leg still hurts badly from the nasty bite a snake gave him few days ago so it’s pretty risky to hike in this condition – and his aircraft is broken – it’s a miracle he could land safely.  
Ford has been trying to fix the motor for two days – to his shame and to no avail -   
And then this guy showed up.    
The indigene is small, tanned, white-haired – a common feature of deserts, Ford notes to himself – at certain dimensions, at least.  
Several years ago he’d probably have mistaken him for a child, but Ford learns by his mistakes – and hell, no way a child can wander in the desert.   
Right?  
“’Stoire,” the native muses.  
“What?”  
“R’conte  ‘ne  ‘stoire.”

Ford is not fluent in French, but it’s not like he has another choice.  
\---  
Fords narrates his adventures until his throat feels sore and the daylight begins to fade.   
The native listens carefully, sitting crosslegged, motionlessly and rarely blinking.  
After all these stories Ford is too tired to speak so instead of finding a French word for “water” he simply points at his mouth and coughs.  
But his listener understands.  
“’N moment.”  
He comes back in no time with something that looks like a canteen - Ford wonders if there’s a cache nearby – takes a gulp from it and hands it to the Author.  
Ford glances at it suspiciously – one man's meat is another man's poison, he has learned it very well -  
but it’s just water.   
\---  
When Ford wakes up, there’s no trace of the native.   
He immediately checks his pockets and the aircraft -   
but everything seems to be in its place.  
What is more, in the aircraft Ford finds two large water –skins and a small amount of dried fruits.  
“Merci,” he mutters.”Now my agony will last a little bit longer.”  
Ford gets in the aircraft and tries to start the engine - last one goes the hope –  
it starts.   
\---  



End file.
